Skip to main content

Getting on


“Why have they done this to us?” Fatima lamented.

Sheila had no answer.  Her man had to join RSS if their son was to get admission in the medical college.  “Don’t talk to the Muslims anymore,” her husband had told her the day he secured his son’s medical college admission. 

They were friends from childhood, Sheila and Fatima.  They studied in the same school and were later married to men in the same neighbouring village.  They were happy to continue the friendship even when they had husbands to love and later children of their own to love.  Love is unlimited, they realised.  You can love anyone if you want.  Love doesn’t get exhausted.  Rather, it increases when given liberally.

“Our son’s future is more important than your friendship,” said Sheila’s husband.  “Muslims are antinational.  Keep away from them.”

Their son got admission to the medical college run by Swami Radhadev on the condition that her husband join the local RSS shakha.  The shakha decided who would be their friends and who the enemies. 

As she walked away from Fatima, having bid good bye to her, Sheila made a prayer in the nascent emptiness of her heart.  “Bhagwan, let not that day come when my husband has to kill my friend for the sake of getting on in life.”




Comments

  1. Why do I feel like this is a continuation of a story that you have written a year ago or so. Memories play hideous tricks!

    The same way as memories of riots incite a hideous violence in the minds of the mass, irrespective of religion and the reason of that riot. A cyclone is nearing its full strength, I feel.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The theme is recurrent in my writing. That's why you probably get that feeling.

      BJP wants a cyclone. They think a repetition of Gujarat 2002 is going to create a Hindu rashtra.

      Delete
  2. Such a painful end to the beautiful friendship. Very well written, Sir.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, Purba. Relationships are undergoing big changes in our country.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

My cat Plato and a question of Do I Belong?

Kingini (middle) and Plato Kingini, my demure and pretty cat, was going to give birth. So she started pampering me very uncharacteristically. She would never let me pamper her. She wouldn’t even come near me except for food. So, when she started rubbing her golden fur against my shin, I knew it was time for me to arrange her labour room. For my earlier queens, I used cardboard cartons in which Amazon delivered stuff. But now Amazon is using some cheap plastic-like material for delivering items. So I brought a plastic basket, the largest I could find in the shop I know, and made a bed of newspapers and a piece of a bedsheet. Kingini approved of it. In a few days’ time, on 7 Feb 2025 to be precise, Kingini gave birth to two cute kittens that looked exactly like my Plato, my beloved male cat who is the first son of Kingini. X Plato was named after the philosopher on a sheer whim of mine. I had had a drink when I christened him. That’s how it usually works: a bit of brandy or whisky ...

A grammatical contemplation

Illustration by Google Gemini “Being alone has this negative connotation, like it’s a punishment, but you’re learning to be friends with yourself,” says a Time article quoting a young college graduate who had just migrated to a new city where she had no friends or relatives. She became her own best friend, she says, instead of going in search of other friends. She went on solo hikes, to concerts, museums, movies, and dinners. Solitude is very useful, the article goes on to argue. It can be a means of self-care and self-exploration. The article also suggests some solo activities like low-skates outing and cultivating a hobby. I’m leaving my teaching profession at the end of this month. Maggie asked me what I’d do with all the free time. Wouldn’t I feel lonely sitting at home? She knows very well that I love to read a lot, write occasionally, and travel whenever I feel like. So I’m not going to have any problem with how to spend all the time that would lie at my disposal from Mar...

The Second Crucifixion

  ‘The Second Crucifixion’ is the title of the last chapter of Dominique Lapierre and Larry Collins’s magnum opus Freedom at Midnight . The sub-heading is: ‘New Delhi, 30 January 1948’. Seventy-three years ago, on that day, a great soul was shot dead by a man who was driven by the darkness of hatred. Gandhi has just completed his usual prayer session. He had recited a prayer from the Gita:                         For certain is death for the born                         and certain is birth for the dead;                         Therefore over the inevitable             ...

Pearls and ... bullies

  Fiction Mollusc (mollusk, in American English) Little Johnny went as usual to his grandma when he was bored of everything else.  Grandma would tell him interesting stories.  Johnny was carrying his mother’s latest pearl necklace that came free with the saris she had ordered online.  “Pearls,” said grandmother fondling the necklace.  “Shall I tell you the story of pearls today? Johnny was excited.  Do pearls have a story too? Yes, they do, said grandma.  A great story.  Do you want to hear it? Of course, Johnny was all ears.  Pearls are found inside the body of creatures living in the oceans, started grandma.   Shell fish.  Molluscs.  They are extremely tender creatures.  Like the soft boys and girls you may see at school.  Do you see such boys and girls? Yes, there are some.  Johnny agreed.  What happens to them?  Asked grandma. Boys bully them. Exact...

The Adventures of Toto as a comic strip

  'The Adventures of Toto' is an amusing story by Ruskin Bond. It is prescribed as a lesson in CBSE's English course for class 9. Maggie asked her students to do a project on some of the lessons and Femi George's work is what I would like to present here. Femi converted the story into a beautiful comic strip. Her work will speak for itself and let me present it below.  Femi George Student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala Similar post: The Little Girl